The Human House Elf
by Peach97
Summary: When Albus Dumbledore is forced into vowing to protect a young girl she definitely gets the worst hand. Abandoned to the house elves she is forced to live in Hogwarts but forbidden to really participate in Hogwarts life. Manipulative Dumbledore and explorations of Wizarding culture seen from those who serve its great institutions.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's note. So this has been rattling around my head for years. It's a little bit of a slow burner but it will get going! Harry's not coming into the story for a while and he's not really that much of a main character at the moment. _

_Warning for not evil but certainly manipulative Dumbledore who may seem to be for equality in his words but disguises a lot of his contempt for others. There is also lots of anti-French sentiment expressed by characters. I think after the First Wizarding War the population needed someone to blame and JK Rowling certainly gave a lot of her evil characters French names (Lestrange, Malfoy, Voldemort) so we're rolling with it! This also links with a traditional dislike of the French from certain British/English citizens today. _

It's funny how seemingly inconsequential things and how they go, can drastically alter the face of the Wizarding World. There were many such moments like that. If Remus hadn't taken five minutes more to eat his dinner before an Order meeting, he wouldn't have snuck into the meeting late looking guilty thus confirming Sirius and James' belief he was the spy. Maybe then Remus would have been named as Secret Keeper and the whole resulting mess would never have happened. What would have happened if Luna Lovegood hadn't gone to search for Nargles in the garden three minutes before Pandora Lovegood exploded her cauldron, living room and ultimately herself. What would Ginny Weasley be like if she hadn't been standing beside Harry in Flourish & Blotts at the exact time Lucius Malfoy needed to get rid of a book? The Unspeakables in the Department of Mysteries study such things but as with much of their research their findings are not revealed to the average wizard on the Knight Bus. What is probable is that if on 8th February 1982 a certain Mr John Cartwright, Deputy Head of Wizarding Travel and Immigration, hadn't received such grim news about his inability to deport the various French Deatheaters awaiting trial he probably wouldn't have been storming down the corridor on the 12th floor of the Ministry staring at the carpet muttering furiously. He probably wouldn't have barged into a certain French witch, Madame Claudette Villiers, and this whole "Elodie incident" wouldn't have occurred. But he did receive the grim news that day and so he wasn't looking where he was going and he did barge into Madame Villiers and well the "Elodie incident" did occur.

A great many thoughts were going through John Cartwright's head as he stormed down that corridor on the morning of 8th February 1982. The only one suitable to publish was the repetition of "Those Bloody French". "How dare bloody whatshisname tell me that "France refuses to take responsibility for British terrorists committing offences on British soil". Those bloody Deatheaters are from bloody Bordeaux, half of them don't speak English so I'm having to budget for bloody translators who are also bloody French. Bloody Lestrange and Bloody Malfoy going on recruiting trips to the South of France. Why couldn't they have gone to Romania where we could have chucked them all to the vampires?"

More would have followed if Cartwright hadn't landed on his backside after a collision with some woman and his briefcase went flying. "Bloody Hell! Look where you're walking you stupid woman" he near yelled. This rage only increased after he heard the mutters of his least favourite language. Cartwright quickly stood up and observed a woman standing up with a tremendous scowl on her face. "Are you mad? You 'ave knocked me over right off my feet!"

At the sounds of her French accent he scowled more. "Look where you're walking woman! You shouldn't even be here, you're supposed to be down in the courtrooms translating."

The woman's scowl turned to utter confusion with still that undercurrent of anger drawing herself up to her not inconsiderable height. "I am not a translator, I am 'ere for my visa appointment. My name is Madame Claudette Villiers and you 'ave made me late. Good day monsieur." With that the woman swept off and headed into the visa section of the department.

Cartwight's scowl increased as he gathered his briefcase and papers. However, as he cast his last Accio a thought came to him there was something he could do to salvage this hellish day. He went back to his office and called for Kevin the deputy of the deputy assistant i.e. the coffee maker and errand boy. When the perpetually overworked and underpaid underling arrived, Cartwright smiled, "Now Kevin there's a French woman with a visa appointment in the next office. I need you to do this little thing for me…"

That evening Cartwright gained a lot of joy from stamping Madame Villiers's form with his stamp setting out that the upright French Frog had no right to remain in Wizarding Britain. Indeed, he enjoyed it so much he went on a stamping spree and well anyone who had ever been within 100 miles of a baguette were informed they had thirty days to leave Wizarding Britain.

A few days later….

No one could say Bathilda Bagshot was at the height of her intellectual capacity but one would literally have to have a snake inside of them to not realise her usually unflappable housekeeper/personal assistant/chef/companion Claudette was stressed. Finally, after another failed pie Bathilda was compelled to ask, "Claudette what on earth is wrong?" Shrug "Claudette…"

The French woman turned round and Bathilda was shocked to see tears in her eyes. With an anguished "Oooh Madame" and the story came out how Claudette and her daughter had been inexplicably denied a routine visa extension and had less than a month to pack up their entire life and move back to Lyon, a town Claudette had left twelve years ago. To say that Bathilda was devastated was stating it lightly. She'd relied on Claudette for a decade now and her little daughter brought a lot of laughter to the old woman's life. Racking her mind for a possible solution she came back to the obvious answer to any wizarding problem in Britain.

Dumbledore

Bathilda immediately wrote a letter to the esteemed headmaster inviting him to a fairly urgent afternoon tea the following day. Claudette immediately set to making her exquisite scones and meringues.

However, even the choicest lemon meringue pie made no difference. He didn't come citing prior engagements. Even when Bathilda had swallowed her pride and begged him to help the little French family, she only received a standard Dumbledore letter with many words but little substance. A vague promise to "look into the issue if possible" gave very little hope to the inhabitants of Godric's Hollow.

It was twelve days before the Villiers' forced exit from Britain and Claudette was in the attic looking for some sort of suitcase. The usually unflappable always with a plan Claudette was feeling at an utter loss. She couldn't go back to Lyon and the thought of again finding a new life was just too much. So, lost in her worries and anxiety, Claudette almost overlooked the contents of a particular trunk in the attic. A few photos and a bundle of aged letters. She initially dismissed them as a few holiday snaps of young boys from a summer day long passed but the note caught her mind. "Albus and Gellert 23rd July 1898". She looked at the letters and when noticing those few choice phrases of "the Greater Good" she had a plan.

"Madame", she shouted, "I'm just stepping out for a little minute. Now, how did one get to Hogwarts?" she wondered.


	2. Blackmail?

_A/N So sorry for the delay! I've got the next few thousand words after this chapter written. PS the reference to global pandemic is purely coincidental and written in late February when what-shall-not-be-named was merely a glimmer. Sure this story is littered with warnings on the benefit of hindsight so I will merely accept my prophetic leanings. _

Albus Dumbledore was having a rather lovely morning all things considered. All was well within Wizarding Britain especially as he'd been able to convince the Department of Transport head, Havell to hire that nice but admittedly slightly dim Macmillan. His father's gratitude would prove particularly useful in the upcoming Wizemagot trials. That morning he'd even managed to avoid most of Trelawney's monologue on his discouraging aura shooing her out of his office with vague promises of his next tea leaves. Stretching out, sucking his 11am lemon drop, the headmaster was perfectly content, to the extent it seemed nearly cruel to interrupt him. However, that unsavoury task fell to Filch whose torture daydream that day (thumb screws with a pinch of the cat o' nine tails) whilst cleaning the external great hall windows had also been interrupted by a mad foreign woman storming into the castle demanding an audience with Dumbledore. Whilst he had initially refused, her threat of manure on his newly polished floors were too personal to ignore. Therefore, the headmaster was interrupted by said angry woman as well as an almost apocalyptic caretaker. Groaning internally Dumbledore stood up to avoid any more shouting from his cantankerous employee.

"Mr Filch… Madame what on earth is wrong? How can I be of assistance?" he asked the pair smiling benevolently.

"Monsieur Domm…blu…door" he winced at the mangling of his surname "I need an urgent meeting with you" the woman demanded.

"Well madame, I am a busy man, so if you would owl me with your request I will try and arrange a time for our little chat. Although, I'm sure you will appreciate my current schedule is not particularly flexible.." he replied fully in his benevolent shooing mode.

"Non" she interrupted "You will not ignore me. I have an urgent issue to discuss and we will be doing this today. I would suggest you banish this silly man; we will sit down and talk". Her voice was not raised but the sense of steel that underlined her tone implied that this was not a mere social call.

Filch near exploded at this insult and even Dumbledore's benevolent façade slipped for a minute. "Madame I assure you I am not in the mood to be dictated to. Now kindly leave my office and my school."

"Non, I will not kindly leave" her tone was scathing. "I think you should see this first before I leave" and pointed at the first few words of a letter.

These first three words, written by someone Dumbledore barely recognised this many years later "My darling Gellert" had a peculiar effect on its author, as witnessed by the caretaker. The headmaster managed to remain standing but his whispered "Filch leave now" was said in a tone that left chills down the departing man's back.

After Filch had positively scarpered out of the office, without acknowledging the woman in his office Dumbledore set about a mad frenzy of complicated wand movements and strange barely audible chants that Madame Villiers surmised was to ensure utter privacy. Finally, he turned with a strange smile, near grotesque in its thinly disguised attempt to be charming and ushered his intruder to a seat with a "Now my dear lady, I think we can sort out this little issue".

"Non"

The professor held up his hands in an attempt of a conciliatory approach. "My dear lady I know what it is you need or rather your mistress. I'm sure we can have a little chat and I can seek to a little extension to your visa… say three months?" The woman could almost see the sense of superiority ooze out of the man like pus. Whilst she was inwardly seething, she couldn't help a small inward smile as the French woman realised his desperation.

"Non. We will not be 'aving a little chat and you certainly do not know what I need." Disdain was dripping from her every word.

"Madame… really there is no need for such hostility" Dumbledore blustered.

"Well… you 'ave not replied to any letters so… it seems this method you will reply to" she shrugged.

"So Monsieur Dumbludoor this is what will happen. I will not publish your wonderful little love letters to a teenage psychopath, and you will ensure I can stay in England with my daughter. You stay hero of Wizards and I don't go back to Lyon. Fair is fair no?"

Dumbledore rose up to his full height and with a frosty tone he attempted to regain control of the conversation. "Madame I have no idea why you thought blackmail was a good idea, but I assure you I have a great deal more sway with the Daily Prophet than the average French whore. It was I who suggested to the late Mr Swift back in 1950, Andrew should be given a chance and well he was appointed editor last year. You'll be laughed out of dear Andrew's office and then a little run in with the aurors for attempted blackmail will sweeten your final hours before deportation."

The French woman recoiled a little at the underlying threat but quickly regained her fire. "Well, it's a good thing my employer is desperate for me to stay and whilst being the voice of history in your school she also happens to have numerous loving nephews especially her dear Andrew who just happens to be her godson as well."

Dumbledore went cold at that infuriating little shrug that accompanied the woman's trump card. She was right and indeed, one of the reasons he stayed close with the frustrating old historian was that a carefully placed word from his beloved aunt could influence much of the Daily Prophet's editorial decisions. How else would Severus Snape be appointed potion master with little fuss and drama without a careful suggestion to Bathilda Bagshot that it did no good for children to have their teachers scrutinised and criticised. It seems he was well and truly beaten and the Minister for Immigration Cartwright did owe him a favour. The little incident in June with regards to the stealing and smoking of certain mushrooms perpetrated by Cartwright Junior had been quietly covered up thus ensuring young Stewart could proceed onto the Auror training course. Boys will be boys and all that.

He shrugged in return. "Very well I'll speak to the Minister about your case but in return I'll expect proof of your promise. An Unbreakable Vow will suffice."

Claudette allowed her shock to show for a second before regaining her candour. "As you wish but I will of course require my own."

Damn! This woman was clever. "As you wish. I'll call my lawyer to perform the charm he is of course bound to his own secrecy."

It took several minutes but as she finished writing the exact wordings of Dumbledore's obligation a little wizened man appeared through the fireplace. Although the French woman didn't know it, Cassius Olivier was renowned among certain circles as being prepared to legalise any shady deal as well as acting as the defence for many a Pureblood ensuring dropped charges amidst generous donations to various foundations with shaky charitable intent. He had personally popularised the Imperius curse defence after its success in the Malfoy case.

Dumbledore held out his arms with a "Shall we" in mocking courtesy as if inviting her to dance instead of committing a crime.

She gingerly grasped arms and Olivier began to weave the spell around the entwined arms. "Do you, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, promise to ensure that both Claudette Antonia Villiers and Elodie Rose Villiers will always have a safe home in England and that they will be both under your protection until your death."

"I will"

As Olivier turned his spell power towards Claudette, she muffled a gasp as the words of her promise embedded themselves into her very bloodstream. "Do you, Claudette Antonia Villiers, promise that you will never share any knowledge of Albus Percival Wulfric Dumbledore's relationship with Gellert Grindlewald with a single person, being or corporation for all the days that you live."

"I will"

With that final binding promise, the spell fire disappeared leaving a silver line on both participants' forearms. Olivier vanished into the flames.

"Madame Villiers"

"Oui" she turned to face the headmaster who was staring at her with barely hidden rage.

"Leave"

"Gladly"

Hindsight can be a wonderful thing, but it is a question of mere academic interest now wondering which party looking into a crystal ball would regret that deal more. Would Claudette Villiers rue the day she consigned her daughter to much hardship and would Albus Dumbledore consider that the publication of his teenage love affair be a breeze to what would come. Well that question is purely theoretical now and for the next few years it appeared that both parties happily managed to put that half an hour in the office firmly behind them.

**February 1987 (Harry Potter is 6)**

Indeed, sitting in his office that cold February day in 1987 the events of 1982 was far from Dumbledore's mind. The Dragonpox epidemic was finally under control after wreaking havoc through the old seats of the Wizemagot. The old guard such as Abraxas Malfoy, Edmund Avery, Euripides Fawley, Angus Macmillan were among the chief casualties, but it had resulted in at least nine Hogwarts beds left empty at the start of term and many more losses of a parent or grandparent. The return from Christmas holidays had been muted with many late returns. Dumbledore certainly mourned the loss of some, but he was already planning his visits to the numerous grieving heirs preparing to step up to the upper echelons of Wizarding justice and law. The offer of help to adjust to such a great position was really only a kindness and he had such an easy bill for them to vote in to ensure the centaurs did not approach on the new Quidditch pitch.

However, the Chief Mugwump's musings were cut short by a letter shooting through the fireplace with the unmistakeable appearance of a missive from the Ministry. He sighed eternally anticipating yet another catastrophe from the new man Fudge but was surprised at seeing the mark on the envelope from the Office for the Wellbeing of Wizarding Children. It was truly an absurd little venture and a relic from that madman Crawley who he had been unfortunately forced to depose after the words "Hogwarts inspection" emerged from his lips. Sighing internally about the anticipated requests for absurd statistics such as the previous demand for the number of head wounds after Quidditch he opened the letter.

It was not a statistical request.

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

As you will be aware due to the recent Dragonpox epidemic many of our children have suffered bereavement. Whilst the vast majority have been fortunate enough to still have a parent or other relative we have one child with no one.

A certain Elodie Rose Villiers has been left without a relative to speak of after the death of her mother Miss Claudette Villiers on 15th January due to Dragonpox complications. Attempts to find any father or relative in Lyon has not been successful. Miss Villiers' will has been revealed and it states that you have been named a guardian and sponsor of the child.

If you would come to our office today to discuss this matter it would be much appreciated.

Best wishes,

Susan Finnegan

Head of the Office for the Wellbeing of Wizarding Children

Damn Damn Damn

With a loss of control Dumbledore hurled the offending piece of parchment to the floor alongside ink.

Of course, he wouldn't have anything to do with this brat of a French whore. Let it go to one of those orphanages that had served a particular Dark Lord so well. Yet with that thought came an overwhelming pain from a silver line in his forearm the professor had tried to erase with no success. It seemed it would be time to call the lawyers again. Really, this Elodie Villiers was costing him a small fortune in lawyers' fees.

The pain from the Unbreakable Vow had nearly faded by the time Dumbledore finished his consultation but had been replaced by the pain of this colossal headache. Despite the small fortune he was paying the slimy man it appeared that Ms Villiers's Unbreakable Vow was rather, well unbreakable. There were four options.

Send her to the muggle world for fostering.

Magical Orphanage

Magical family

Dumbledore

After the events in the office she had apparently written to Olivier detailing exactly the type of "safe home" she was expecting which included the need for a magical presence. Apparently the brat had experienced rather serious episodes of accidental magic so was not safe to be in the presence of muggles. So the muggle world was out.

There was technically an orphanage which catered for magical children. However, due to the traditional natures of magical society including the interbreeding they weren't overly used as inevitably some relative would be found. Even if they hated children, there were always house elves to look after the devils and they'd be off to Hogwarts soon which would soften the sting in contrast to the shame of having a family member in Spinks Institute or Squints its more common name. Many a misbehaving Wizarding child had altered their behaviour after a threat to owl Squints. The origins of the nickname of the institution alluded to the defining characteristic of the children or "Squinters" who lived there. These children wouldn't be accepted into Hogwarts and were generally werewolf children, squibs or near squibs or the occasional child of a desperate Knockturn Alley prostitute. They'd be there for a few years and then released at fifteen or whenever they ran away. The discrepancy between the number accepted and released was notable. Filch had been a Squinter and Hagrid had nearly succumbed to that fate if Old William hadn't apprenticed him. Dumbledore knew his brother had taken a few on as well as the hospital. Anyway, it seemed living under the care of the ghastly Agnes Spinks wouldn't fulfil Ms Villiers's demands. So that was out.

A magical family was technically possible but due to the treasuring of blood, fostering wasn't necessarily an embraced concept in the Wizarding World. Even blood adoption was an antiquated measure after the new blood from the European families starting coming in. The Russini, Malfoy, Lestrange and Zabini families had all played a significant part in sustaining Wizarding Britain simply from their sharing of genes. Olivier was investigating but any foster parents would only take a baby and with anti-French sentiment still being as it was, a ten year old with a notable French accent was not desirable.

As per Cartwright's speech in the corridor of 1982 the only words able to be repeated from Dumbledore's internal monologue are variations on "Damn the bloody French". It was unfortunate that this problem also coincided with the stupid half breed taking up the reins at this ridiculous school on the Alps…. Which may just solve his problems.

It was only a few months until September so if this French brat could live somewhere he'd be free when September came. Most likely Hogwarts he realised with a grimace. There would be a scandal if the eminent bachelor was seen to be caring for a child so she would have to be hidden. There were plenty of small storage areas in the castle which he hadn't fully explored yet. Indeed, he still didn't know where the house elves slept. Hide the little cockroach for a few months and then ship her off to France for Beauxbatons. Hogwarts was the safest place in Britain so it would fulfil that Gallic cow's ridiculous vow. Conveniently, Beauxbatons offered all year boarding. She'd have to pass some test but that could be discretely arranged.

So, plan:

1\. Speak to house elves to arrange accommodation and emphasise need for secrecy.

2\. Collect said inconvenient baggage. It wouldn't do for his image to be tarnished by sending a house elf.

3\. Clarify exactly how to send her to Beauxbatons. It would be pricey, but this was an occasion to throw one's money about.

After speaking to head house elf Mopsy, he reluctantly apparated to the OWWC. Due to its limited budget it wasn't actually in the main Ministry building but in the equivalent of a magical shed, yet still discretion was needed. The half dead secretary sent him into the head office of Ms Finnegan who was already in discussion with Olivier. He affected his affable demeanour and ummed and ahhed at the appropriate moments. Formalities complete with a little pointed memory charm, Elodie Rose Villiers was effectively his ward until she turned seventeen as well as erased from the system. As he left he made a mental note to suggest said office be in line for the budget cuts required to cope with the Dragonpox epidemic.

The child, in question, Elodie was incredibly confused. Bathilda had been infected first and the particular strain she had encountered went straight to the brain and well, she wasn't really intellectually there anymore. With news of the historian's committal to St Mungo's the relatives had come swarming out of the woodwork. A gaggle of Bagshot nieces and nephews had come straight to the house to "nurse" their aunt in hopes of her gratitude adding them to her elusive will. With their invasion, they had quickly thrown the Villiers out of the house despite Claudette clearly being ill. With no other choice, the little family had gone to St Mungo's. Claudette was admitted to the wards and Elodie left to the waiting room. Claudette had died in little less than a week and the run of their feet Healers had palmed Elodie off to the OWWC. In just two weeks, the ten-year-old had lost her mother, home and quasi grandmother figure. The OWWC had taken a week to trace Dumbledore whilst she had stayed at an older couple's house who had been promised to be boosted up the baby list if they had her. Elodie had been deposited at the office from 8am to 6pm every day left with merely a sandwich and two-year-old copies of Witch Weekly, resentfully collected by the Dawsons, furnished with something for dinner and sent upstairs. There had sometimes been other children in the waiting room, but they were always collected within a few hours by loving grannies, uncles and godparents. Yet she had waited.

Finally, today Ms Finnegan had told her they'd found someone to get her. She'd kept her coat on all day and finally a tall wizard had floated into the office. She'd been too scared to speak in the office, but he seemed kind. He had only spoken once to tell her to hold onto a dirty looking tin can. The feeling of moving through space had made her feel sick but she was now in an office with lots of whizzy things and looking down at her was the wizard.

Well she wasn't up to much. Dumbledore thought as he looked down at the brat still looking queasy from the Portkey. She was small with blond hair in two plaits wearing a red coat carrying a small battered traditional leather suitcase. He sighed and called for Mopsy the house elf who appeared with a crack.

"Mopsy, this is Elodie Villiers. Take her to her accommodation and make sure she stays out of sight." He commanded. Before the house elf could take the child he continued, "Elodie!"

The girl looked at him clearly exhausted and confused. "It is imperative you stay out of sight. I don't want anyone to know you are here."

Her eyes widened and nodded as the house elf took her hand and with a crack she was magically transported again for the second time in ten minutes. They landed in a large kitchen where many house elves were gathered. They were still cleaning but it was a relaxed atmosphere with jokes, teaching the younger elves and socialising. When they saw the human girl they froze.

"Mr Mopsy what is this kerfuffle? Why is there a little big person here? What is she?" A babble of voices rang out.

"Stop." Mopsy's voice rang out clearly with authority behind him. "This is Missy Elodie. She will live with us. Professor Dumbledore needs us to keep her away from the teachers and students. No one knows she lives with us. Dotty!"

A younger female house elf stepped forward. "Find Missy Elodie some food and a bed."

The house elf led the silent girl towards the table and gave her some food. When she had eaten a little she pushed the plate away and no cajoling from the house elf could persuade her to eat more. Finally, they led her through the kitchen into a concealed door. Here she could see lots of bunkbeds with a whole host of house elves stretching from the youngest to the oldest. About a quarter of the beds were empty and she looked enquiringly up at Dotty.

"We don't all sleep at the same time Missy Elodie. There must always be house elves awake to serve Hogwarts." The girl nodded and relapsed into the same tired look.

Dotty led her through the room through a smaller door into what appeared to be an ex cupboard. There was a small bed covered in a bright yellow blanket. "Your bed Missy. Goodnight."

This elicited a small smile from the girl. She got into bed and despite her evident exhaustion not much sleep came to the young girl that night. She lay confused and anxious as the tears came rolling for she knew the old joyful life with Mama was gone and this new one only interspersed with drops of kindness amidst a great sea of disdain was her current reality.


	3. Hogwarts doesn't offer safety to all

_A/N Chapter Three yeoh! We've got a lot of angst, a little bit of fluff then angst. We discover Remus Lupin six years after Halloween and understand why this story is called the Human House elf. Remember all authors love a review so drop your opinions, queries and concerns!_

That great sea of disdain surrounding and nearly capsizing Elodie was very much evident in her first few weeks at Hogwarts. The House elves, whilst kind were run off their feet and anxious to keep to their strict instruction from Dumbledore to keep her out of sight. They fed her, ensured she occasionally frequented the bath but was mostly left to her own devices. She wasn't even really allowed in the kitchens as there was a danger of staff members coming across her. Instead, she spent many hours in either her room or in the elves' dormitory with the near decrepit old ones and younglings. They tried their best to engage her in their games or conversations but a ten-year-old, still stricken with grief and not entirely fluent in English, was not naturally the most engaged. She didn't see Dumbledore for nearly a month until the Easter Holidays came in mid March and one evening he came to see her.

Dumbledore gingerly entered into the vast kitchen and as always saw the great swathe of elves running frantically to clean and prepare for the next day's breakfast. Even the very youngest were being carefully supervised to dry the plates that were about the size of their heads. When he was fully inside the kitchen he closed and locked the door. With the slam of the great oak door concealed behind the painting the house elves immediately stopped and stood at attention. The man nodded at his army of elves and called for Mopsy.

"Yes, Mr Professor Dumbledore Sir!" The head elf genuflected in front of him.

"Bring me to the girl." As they were walking to the dormitory he curtly enquired of the brat's welfare.

"Oh Sir, she is not doing happy. We give her food she eat but she is sad. At night she call out for Mama. We try but…"

"That will be enough. Now leave us." With much bowing Mopsy departed and left the two humans together.

"Girl!" He commanded looking at the listless child in front of him. She looked clean but there were great dark circles and no hint of curiosity in her eyes.

"In six months time you will be going to France to attend Beauxbatons. In order that you may pass the tests and be off my hands, I have arranged a tutor. You will be meeting with him each morning. I cannot stress the importance of passing these tests enough as well as staying out of Hogwart's sight. I will be most displeased if you are seen. Furthermore, you will not tell this tutor anything about your mother or life. Your name will be Evangeline. Do you understand?" He lectured pacing in front of her.

"Oui" she whispered.

"Speak English you interminable brat." He barked. Honestly, any whiff of that disgusting language set his teeth on edge. How in Merlin would he manage the annual International Wizarding Conference in April?

With that he swept out leaving the child in his wake.

The next morning two people woke up with a little more swing in their step. Elodie had finally been given an interaction with the outside world as well as an end date to whatever her present situation was. She had snuck down to the kitchens that night and taken a look at the calendar. There were only a few months before she could leave. Whilst she had never been to France, Mama had told her stories of the beautiful snowy mountains and lush waves lapping at the beach. It was much better than the dark underbelly of the school even if she had to pretend her name was Evangeline as she wrinkled up her nose in disgust.

The other was a certain Remus Lupin. It was five years now since his world had exploded. He'd ran away to the continent for a while just to clear his head. However, he had spent the last year caring for his father in the Welsh valleys, but Tad was dead now these last six months. Remus had tried to get a job when he moved back to London craving the magical community but even three months of bottle washing at the other pub in Diagon Alley had ended. Too many absences was the official reason but he had seen the whispers from the bar staff. He had a miserable winter living on his father's meagre savings so the letter from Dumbledore was welcome.

He'd not been back to Hogwarts after a grief-stricken rant in early November which culminated in begging to no avail to even see little Harry. Remus had rather assumed he was persona non grata to the deceptively cold Headmaster so his offer of tutoring services was unexpected. He had tutored a few children to pass the Baccalauréat Junior which was the fiendishly difficult test for entry in Beauxbatons. The French school didn't merely require magical ability but a sense of logic and innate magical philosophy. It was orientated towards those children born into the French elite who were tutored for the test from the age of six. Indeed, it was only in the past twenty years muggleborn children in France were offered the opportunity to study for it. Those failing the test were offered a cursory magical education mostly to ensure they could control their magic and summon glasses when they took up their near inevitable positions as waiters and shop staff. There had been a massive scandal when a child educated at some backwater Parisian school had been offered an apprenticeship at l'Hôpital Magique in Lille after somehow self-studying for Healer exams. There was a reason why the French magical population had been depleted by moves to Britain, Canada and elsewhere. Dumbledore hadn't provided a reason why his pupil Evangeline was aiming for Beauxbatons, but he had placed a binding silence line in his contract and for the regular salary offered Remus would have tutored a Hippogriff in ballet.

Dumbledore stood waiting for his new appointee by Hogwarts gates beside the little French brat who had been dropped off by Mopsy. He hadn't wanted to spend more money than necessary on the parasite and all the tutors had seemed very expensive and haughty. Finally, he had remembered the werewolf who he had accepted into Hogwarts on some misguided charitable streak. Whilst he had been useful in the War, the whinging post-War had been simply dreary. However, Dumbledore was well aware of his current economic status and never underestimated a good silencing term in one's staff contract as well as the power of security to the dispossessed. A few owls had ensured the werewolf's silence and services.

After the inevitable greetings and apologies from the werewolf for his non-existent lateness Dumbledore led the tutor and tutee to the seventh floor. If the former Marauder and author of a certain map wondered why the route was so convoluted and dark he did not voice this. The headmaster turned to face the pair as he led the way into a room furnished with a table, desks and several bookshelves.

"Well, Mr Lupin, I trust you have all you need. Here is a portkey to take you back to the gates at 1pm." With that he left not wishing to waste another minute on this bore of an inconvenience.

Pupil and teacher stared at each other before Remus recovered himself and ushered his new pupil to the table. She looked nervous but was immaculately dressed in a dark blue frock and matching ribbons in her hair which Dotty had spent a good twenty minutes on that morning.

He smiled and ushered the little girl to the conveniently placed sofa. "So Evangeline, I thought we'd start off this session with a little chat. How are you?"

She stared at him blankly. Right this as going to be harder than expected he thought. Thankfully, he had a little French after a month or so in a Provence winery. Mam had also taught languages, though moving around to escape nosy neighbours had put paid to any stable job. It wasn't really something he emphasised due to the heavy handed anti-French sentiment still prevalent. Whilst Remus' terrible sunburn had put a figurative shade over his winery travails, the frequent jokes about the Welsh and their intense love of ovis aries (sheep shaggers) had calculated a strong dislike for those sorts of nationalist prejudice. The Wizarding world really didn't need racism as well as blood purist ideology to contaminate it even more.

Instead he attempted a casual "Ca va" and well he didn't think it was the atrocious French accent that made the girl burst into tears. After around ten minutes, a combination of French, English, Franglais and a furtive translation spell revealed a very scared little girl with limited English who whilst refused to say much had clearly undergone some sort of trauma. Remus decided there was not the time for logic and instead a game of magical Hungry Hippos managed to bring a little smile as well as his constant stash of Chocolate Frogs.

The months flew by, for both Remus and his tutee and they flourished under the stability and attention gratefully received by both who knew the feelings of it all being ripped from under one's feet. Remus had found his little pupil to have the grasp of logic required for a Beauxbaton girl and she had passed the tests. The only real issue was the names. His pupil still had difficulty responding to "Evangeline" and whilst her English had much improved and maybe acquired a slight Welsh ting "Remus" was mangled into "Raay- mousse". It was rather endearing really.

Now it was mid July and the unlikely couple were off to Diagon Alley. Whilst La Cour was still the traditional spot for Parisians, Diagon Alley had a designated day to meet the needs of the various Francophiles domiciled in England. Whilst no true French patriot would admit it, Ollivander had the edge over Bisset or Caron. Dumbledore had shown little interest in his ward and simply instructed a house elf to give Remus the relevant money for the trip.

He had intended to leave the wand till last but his pupil's entreaties of "baguette magique Raay-mousse" changed their approach. He later thanked the God whom he prayed to a lot more since Halloween 1981 they had not purchased the blue Beauxbatons robes before heading to Ollivanders.

It had all begun as eerily similar as Remus' own trip the summer of 1971. Ollivander had greeted him and recalled his own wand (10.25 inches, Cypress with unicorn hair). The girl had submitted to the wandmaker's cursory measurements before beginning the cautious swish of wands as so many before her. Indeed it was all going swimmingly until one more confident wave led to a small light shattering and Remus' cry of "Those Beauxbaton lot will have to be on their toes with you around." With that Ollivander turned around and repeated, "Beauxbaton?"

Remus missed the concern as he beamed with pride. "Yes, this little one got her exams and is off to France in September." With one swish Ollivander removed the customary debris resulting from a matching of wand and wizard and beckoned to Elodie grumbling under his breath.

She hesitated causing Ollivander's explosion. "For Merlin's sake boy why did you not tell me she was heading over the waters? Beauxbaton wand matching is much more intricate than the barbaric waving demanded by the bloody upstart in Scotland."

Remus looked confused and began to babble before Ollivander's curt gesture cut him off. He began to explain and lowered his tone after hid glimpse at the girl. "I'm sure you're aware people had varying degrees of magical power? The Benediek scale ranks everyone on the scale from 1-10. Muggles will be a 1. Normal is between 4-8. Hogwarts occasionally takes a 3.5 but Beauxbatons want at least a 5. You're probably a 7 with all that extra "fluff".

Remus glanced nervously at his pupil but she appeared to have lost or ignored the train of conversation. "So how do we test this?"

Ollivander brightened. "Well Salou recommends a mathematical approach and Olawu likes the potion. That ass Emslie does the genealogical route which is bloody ridiculous. However, I'm a Khalif man and prefer to go in through incision." At Remus' startled look he continued, "It's a little pin prick. Magic is carried by the blood. My God man, how do you think Muggleborns come to be? It's the Clarkesian theory of Squib hereditary syndrome. It's not blood purist nonsense it's theory! The Pinetian experiments clearly found blood purity had no correlation with magical ability. Emslie completely ignores this…"

Now Remus understood why wand making was such an obscure discipline due to the ever present threat of death by yawning. Eager to avoid another lecture on Emslie he interrupted. "So how do we do this pin prick?"

Ollivander scowled as his less than captivated audience and beckoned to Elodie. Explaining in French and translating to English he stated, "Right we pin prick and place in the Khalif formula and look for the colour change. A muggle will be red, changing to orange but we want a yellow or preferably green blue. If it's purple we've got the next Merlin."

The pin prick was duly administered and the party of three settled to watch. They saw red, turning to burnt orange, then distinctive tanned orange, finally settling on what can only be described as strawberry blonde. Remus willed the yellow streaks to go more visible but it was settled. "Well?" he demanded. "What are we looking at here?"

Ollivander raised an eyebrow and fetched his colour chart. "I'd say a positive 3.7 which'll get into Hogwarts but you'll be laughed out of Beauxbatons."

Remus withered. "Raay-mousse?" His charge whispered at him. He tried to smile and grabbed her hand. "Right darling, just time for an ice cream and we'll chat to Professor Dumbledore. Maybe he'll pull a few strings." The Welshman definitively ignored the scoff from the ancient wandmaker.

In the days after and certainly the years later Remus and Elodie often wondered what would have been the outcome if the couple had lingered over an ice cream or even fled. Yet hindsight is a true poison in these types of cases. Instead their hurried ice cream was barely eaten as Remus urged Elodie back to her quarters (unaware of the tiny corner in the kitchen) and he hurried off to break the news to the headmaster. Dumbledore immediately dismissed him and Remus never did say a goodbye to the brief light of his life. He spent the next five years floating between the underpaid gruelling jobs usually reserved to those drop outs and screw ups of both the magical and muggle world.

Ollivander's letters alongside polite measured replies of Beauxbaton only infuriated Dumbledore more as it became clear Elodie was staying in Hogwarts. Yet no Hogwarts letter came to the eleven year old in August of 1987. Instead the 5th August was spent the same as the past two weeks were for the young girl. Ignored, bored and confused. It was much the same as how the subsequent five birthdays would pass until a certain boy wizard entered his third year and a certain Welsh teacher re-entered the Scottish school.

During the summer of 1987 it was observed that Albus Dumbledore was more than a touch more irritable than his normal self. Whilst no one voiced it apart from the proprietors of Honeydukes wondering why their lemon sherbet order was near twice the usual amount it was clear the Headmaster wasn't in his right mind. No one ever dreamed it would be due to a little eleven year old girl staying in the kitchen of Hogwarts. Dumbledore was determined the brat couldn't attend Hogwarts and whilst he had taken children under her magical level they tended to be the offspring of high ranking Ministry officials. Much of the Fudge clan were admitted due to this discretion. Other children with less important parents did not receive their Hogwarts letter and so were assumed to be squibs and dispensed with according to their parents' tolerance.

However, it seemed his futile letters to Beauxbatons demanding Elodie's entrance had the unfortunate effect of putting the child on the French system according to the final letter from that half breed headmistress which threatened the dreary weight of French bureaucracy. Really, he considered woefully the child had amassed a rather large amount of paperwork. He was in a bind as now the child was on the French system it seemed he had to prove that she would be educated in some way or at least kept safe. There was no way he could abandon her to the French system as the petty officialdom would go digging which would not be ideal.

He considered his options

There was no way he would allow her to attend Hogwarts as a student.

Sending her to France to be educated in one of their crap institutes would break the Unbreakable vow made all those years ago as under French law he would lose guardianship.

Similarly being looked after by a British family would be too close to home and it was too much of a risk for any links being traced back to home.

He was stuck so did what any man in his position facing a sticky solution would do. He called his lawyer. The odious Cassius Olivier was able to floo in that afternoon and listened to his client's predicament. After Dumbledore finished his tirade bemoaning the use of the Unbreakable vow he paused and watched the lawyer simply sip his tea.

Olivier was a shrewd businessman and felt it as well to make his own freedom from responsibility quite clear without any delay. Finally the man spoke. "Well you've certainly been left a little beggar on your hands. There's no responsibility from Olivier & Garett for the unwanted consequences for administrating the Vow."

Dumbledore looked ready to launch another tirade on the costs of keeping the child but Olivier evidently did not intend to remain to listen to the story of Dumbledore's grievances after he had made the position of his firm clear and related the mere dry facts. He did not feel any particular sympathy for irate headmasters of boarding schools.

"Well as a financial advisor, you had better not pay for anything more" he remarked, "unless you want to make presents to the young lady. No one will remember you. She hasn't a brass farthing to call her own."

"But what am I to do?" demanded Dumledore, as if he felt it entirely his duty to make the matter right. "What am I to do?"

"There isn't anything to do," said Olivier, folding up his glasses and slipping them into his pocket. "The mother is dead and you'll end up the same if you don't care for the brat in some way. The child is left a pauper and squib. Nobody is responsible for her but you."

"I am not responsible for her, and I refuse to be made responsible!" Dumbledore became quite white with rage.

Olivier turned to go. "I have nothing to do with that" he said uninterestedly with no sincerity. "Olivier & Garett are not responsible. Very sorry the thing has happened, of course and you've been left with such a burden. It's very simple, feed the child, give it a corner to sleep in and occupy it with some useful employment."

Dumbledore seethed at the obvious insincerity but Olivier's words resulted in pause for thought. "Olivier, how strict is this caring responsibility? Can I simply leave her with the house elves."

The lawyer paused but shook his head. "She's not a house elf and magic has different standards for humanity and elves. The only way you could do it is…" He paused with a grin that sent a slight shiver down his client's back. It was the grin of the cat that's not only got the cream but scratched all pretenders to the cream as well as the cow who provided the milk.

The lawyer headed back to the chairs. "Tell me dear Dumbledore have you ever heard of a little charm called the Human House Elf? No? Well it was used in the 18th and 19th century by a few select families. It's a replica of the original house elf charms. House elves are bound to a building or person and there is a physical pull to obey despite any wish to the contrary. However, the evolution and breeding of house elves resulted in the desire to obey and serve. If a house elf doesn't obey, it physically irritates and worsens until the itch is scratched by completing whatever task and they may even need to punish themselves further such is the itch. Some bright sparks in Jamaica decided to experiment on humans, muggles, squibs and the poorest wizards. It's a lot cruder but essentially the charm means they are physically bound to a person and compelled to do whatever task instructed by their owner."

Dumbledore considered his lawyer's propositions, "So, I bind the brat to me and she can just do jobs around Hogwarts. What about the paperwork?"

Olivier smiled again. "The beauty of this is that it allows the erasure of bureaucratic humanity. She's legally the standard of a house elf. No one makes lists about them and no one ever inquires about their welfare. She'll be legally wiped of any lists."

"What happens when she turns seventeen? Is it all removed?"

Olivier scoffed. "It doesn't matter. Whilst she physically matures there's no difference in the legal status. It'll make it better really. No one's going to question an adult working at Hogwarts, but you'll get questions if you see a thirteen year old washing floors. We'll bind her to you as Hogwarts is too instable. My advice is to make her useful below stairs and you can get a good deal out of her as she grows older."

"I will get a good deal out of her before she grows older!" exclaimed Dumbledore.

"I am sure you will, Sir," said Olivier with a little sinister smile. "I am sure you will. Right this is done through a potion so I'll send it to you tomorrow. Good day."

The potion was delivered the subsequent day and Elodie was duly administered the brew. It took her a week to recover from the noxious substance that essentially reconfigured parts of her insides. It was left to the house elves to explain to the child she was now bound to the headmaster and would work alongside them. And thus it was that the Human House elf commenced her duties. Whilst eleven and twelve year olds were sorted on the evening of 1st September their invisible peer was in the huge scullery washing up. She had been wiped off any list and indeed the only people aware of her existence were the House elves and Dumbledore. If a certain Welsh wizard ever thought of an old pupil it would be a few long years before they were reunited.


	4. Chapter 4

_A skip and a jump_

_**AN Thank you for all your lovely reviews they definitely keep an author motivated! I felt like the story needed a little bit of first person narration so here's Elodie in her own words! Also, I've been slightly obsessed by a certain movie and its sequel as well as its soundtrack. Have a look at the second paragraph and see if you can guess!**_

**POV Elodie **

**Academic Year 1989-1990 The year Fred and George start Hogwarts, two years before Harry.**

When examining my life I've always divided it up into certain sections. Certainly we've got the big pre and current slavery division but you can also look at it pre and post the meetings of Remus or Fred and George or even Rosmerta as well the time when I was about eighteen and realised I was now more fluent in English than French.

However, when reminiscing about my pre Hogwarts life as I tended to do a lot during those long dreary years at Hogwarts, I've always seen it as a little cocoon. My mother for all her faults, which I've come to recognise, really did wrap me up in a bundle of love and care. I'm not certain but it's clear her own childhood in Lyons was not a happy one and she ran away at twenty to London for not just an adventure but love as well. However, London was like a certain Greek island, in ways not including the weather, and my mother found that men can cause much pain as well as love. I'm not sure of whom my father is as she had always shrugged it off when asked. I know there are ways to find out but they're expensive and well I doubt he would remember her. Many people over the years have called my mother a French whore with allusions to the brothels of Knockturn Alley but to be honest the vast majority never met her and those who did never knew her. I don't know really. I loved her but she was gone.

Like my mother I have certainly found that men often result in pain. I can't really think of many who haven't. I also can't really think of many women who haven't caused me pain either. I didn't really understand what Dumbledore had done to me initially. I was so scared and unsure of him the first months at Hogwarts but also hopeful as the elves spoke of what a great man he was. When he brought me to Remus I really thought this was going to be a change but my stupid magic level put stop to that. For years I thought Remus had left in disgust that I wasn't magical but the fact is that I am magical just not enough.

When Dumbledore brought me to his office that summer night I had no idea what was to occur. All I remember is drinking that potion and feeling my entire body churn as the chemistry of my body was distorted. I didn't know what it was and didn't for years. I can remember waking up and one of the house elves explaining to me that I was to live and work with them then being put to work washing pans. They were so scared of me asking questions that I gave up. I don't think the elves were given much of an explanation other than I was to live and work with them. House elves start work as soon as they can walk so a little girl working for hours each day didn't really phase them though they are always kind. I initially spent most of my time in the kitchen washing dishes, helping to plate up and reaching high cupboards. Then I moved onto laundry spending hours moving clothes from one chute to another and sorting out into rooms. I had a month or so in the repair room where it was mutually agreed sewing wasn't really my thing. Dumbledore didn't want me to be seen by the staff or pupils so it was only at night or the holidays that I would venture into the main school. People ask me did I know such and such a pupil or did I see a particular incident, but it felt so distant. I was vaguely aware of a girl who could change her hair and nose and fell over a lot because at the age of twelve I spent a morning polishing and attempting to repair the twenty pairs of armour she bumped into. I did know about the great tomato fight of 1990 but that was because I was up until 2am squeezing tomato juice out of centuries' old tapestry. For me, the staff and students really just represented a herd of elephants I must avoid and then clean up their messes.

I was probably about thirteen when I found the exception to this rule. For reference, this was the beginning of the academic year 1989-1990 two years before Harry Potter began Hogwarts. It was fairly late and past curfew and I had ventured out of the kitchen to allegedly sort out the dodgy hinge in Charms but aimed to make a pitstop in the Prefect's bathroom. Also I really wanted to avoid cleaning the treacle tart tin. I was just closing the door as I heard an honest to goodness war cry and was hit by two identical lumps. I found myself lying on the ground as the lumps realised what had happened. There were lots of "sorry!" before I grabbed the closed freckled hand and was hauled up to my feet where I observed my attackers. I genuinely did wonder if I had concussion and was seeing double before one spoke and the other did not. They were two brightly ginger freckled little boys. However, one was in the midst of their "cheeky chappy" routine whilst the other looked that little more bashful. I was soon to realise the first was Fred and the second George. Yes, whilst they really did look identical I was soon to find out that Fred was generally the instigator and did a lot of the talking whilst George slightly hung back but would be the first to apologise. This was actually reversed on the Quidditch Pitch and only George ever received a warning for his repeated aim at heads. Anyway, I digress, it would be two years before I saw them on the quidditch pitch. I was barely able to regain my senses before I was hit by many a question.

"Who are you?"

"What house are you?"

"Is that really the kitchens?"

"Are you ok?"

I sighed and really to get away from them quickly murmured, "Elodie, and yes it's the kitchens." I went to leave, eager for my rendezvous for the bathroom but they grabbed my arm.

"Wait. You can't just leave, how do we get into the kitchen? Also, how come we've never seen you before?"

Why of all nights did I have to get stuck with the twin terrors who had already wreaked havoc and received a howler in their first two weeks? I'd been up since 6 and just wanted to soak in the bath so my next response was probably a little ill-advised and Dumbledore would have hit the roof to see the squib fraternising with good little Light purebloods.

"Just tickle the pear, but don't tell them it was me" I muttered, wrenching myself free as the boys excitedly turned to the painting. And that little phrase dear Readers, cost a small fortune in cakes and butterbeer over the next seven years. The elves loved it despite the accounting issues and the twins thankfully kept quiet about the source of their knowledge. I remember lying in the tub aiming to stay well away from the Weasley terrors but as luck would have it, a few weeks later they requisitioned the Marauders Map from Filch and made a point of slightly stalking me.

They eventually cornered me after curfew one night in October. I was sitting on the big bench/window seat near the Divination stairs allegedly cleaning the stained glass but more dreaming out the window. These dreams were interrupted by the eleven year old menaces who plopped down beside me. Whilst my dear readers may be wondering why I just didn't report them for curfew, none of the staff were aware of my existence and I tried to avoid Dumbledore. Some random ghosts knew I existed but were too disconnected to care. Also the classrooms were warded against students being in the room on their own. Whilst curfew breaking isn't ideal for sleep patterns there wasn't any real danger just annoyances for me. Anyway before I could get a word in, Fred began his cheeky chappy routine which wasn't to be honed for another few years so was more cute kid than debonair at this point in time.

"So Elodie, my mysterious one who are you?"

George joined in with that weird twin speak they did to unnerve others to great effect. "We've watched you on the map, you don't come to meals, you sleep in the kitchen, you only come out at night. You're not a student."

"The real question here is," At this point I was tensing hard. "are you hiding pointy ears or your teeth?"

I was flabbergasted and laughed. "What?"

George smiled. "Are you house elf or vampire? We considered a werewolf but you were wandering around the castle last full moon. You seem to live with the house elves but it's the accent. Is it Transylvanian?"

I really couldn't help but laugh at this point but quickly sobered up. What would Dumbledore do if this idea of a secret girl got about Hogwarts. He most likely wasn't hiding another one of me was he?

I took a deep breath. "Look, all I can tell you is that my name is Elodie and I work here. I'm not a house elf or vampire, just a normal person. The accent is French not Transylvanian." I knelt down in front of the two boys whose laughing smiles were sobered by my seriousness/desperation. "You can not tell anyone. You understand? No friends, no teachers. This is very très important." I had a good grasp of English at this point but the accent certainly got stronger when stressed (or drunk but I didn't discover this for another few years).

The boys didn't answer. I gripped their hands tighter. "Do you promise not to tell anyone?" They fervently nodded. I smiled, hoping to lighten the tension. "Right, it's nearly midnight, I'll show you a way to get to the common room without going past McGonagall's."

They were silent as I walked them back up to the common room. As the Fat Lady was opening up Fred turned round. "Wait Elodie. Does Dumbledore know you're here? Can we come visit you?"

I gave them a brief smile but shook my head. "Non, you can't be spending time with me. Go to class, play snap with your friends."

I didn't get a response as the Fat Lady snapped at them stating she wasn't a jam jar waiting to be opened at all hours in the night for silly first years' own amusement. (I thought it was a silly analogy took.) I hurried back to the kitchen simultaneously hoping that was and wasn't the end of my night-time wanderings with the Weasley Twins. They lasted three days before coming to find me again and well we formed a little routine. I insisted it could only be once a week as they were only eleven with school the next day, but we'd meet in the Astronomy tower safe from staff patrols. I couldn't tell them much about my life, but I could tell them funny things about house elves and provide cake. They were always good for a story about their antics in the classroom and the Weasley family. I wouldn't meet the Weasley family for a good five years, but I loved their stories of the close knit but manic household. I was only thirteen and desperate for companionship and if I did stumble across their pranks, well I didn't stop them apart from the time I forbade the throwing of 20 kg of flour. It's a nightmare to clean. I knew they were very curious about my life and picked up titbits, but I never let on how old I really was. I think they assumed I was a young seventeen year old working in the kitchen for some unknown reason. My childhood ended with the death of my mother when I was ten, I definitely didn't have the demeanour of the typical thirteen year old. I saw even the older students as little children to be picked up having quickly gotten over the stage of comparing myself to my peers who would have been in 3rd year at this point.

That was my life for a good few years really and they were my light. I always looked forward to summer as I could walk around Hogwarts in the daytime and Dumbledore allowed me to use lost property to furnish my wardrobe, but I definitely missed my little ginger menaces.

_**AN sorry it's a short one but thought you'd want a bit. Next chapter is when Harry hits Hogwarts. Plan is to whiz through the first two books but really focus in on book 3 when a certain Welsh professor will reappear. The bits about George tending to be shyer is from JK Rowling herself. **_


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